Fate: Deliverance
by PhantasmRegalia
Summary: Decades after the Third Holy Grail War and the destruction of the Three Families, a few daring mages emerge from the woodwork to resurrect the ritual. Seven servants and their masters will clash. Some fight for the Grail, some fight for their lives, and some fight just for the hell of it. An alternate Fourth Holy Grail War with a focus on action and original characters.
1. Prologue

"Ok, I think I got it right this time."

He stood to his feet, dripping the remainder of the viper's blood into the summoning circle, careful not to splash any onto the runes adorning the border. After two failed attempts in as many days, the young mage was nearly ready to use his own blood if it meant a successful summoning. His long black robe was drenched in sweat and small spots of blood, both dried and wet. He dropped the viper's limp corpse into a small pail with the others and grabbed a cloth from behind him, first attempting to wipe the exhaustion from his face before cleaning the blood from his palms. His gaze lingered on the red sigil the back of his left hand. Two thorny vines entwined themselves around a small heart, a reminder of the inevitable battles to come.

"You won't elude me this time, Servant," he snarled.

Over the past week, Beryl Rota's home had been thrown into quite a bit of disarray. Candles gave off the only light in the small building since he had drawn the curtains closed. The rotted stench of animal carcasses seemed to emanate from the floorboards, most of all in the basement where he had attempted his previous summonings. Half-read tomes and magic scrolls were strewn about the floors and sparse furnishings. The most striking feature of the humble shack was the rows and rows of small lines of arcane scrawlings that covered the walls from ceiling to floor, repeating in a multitude of languages. The text pulsed with a soft etheric energy that seemed to pull the heat from the air, pushing in waves from top to bottom and culminating at the small metal shard at the center of the bloody circle.

The clock hanging from the wall approached 2 a.m., and Beryl stepped back to brace his body for the ritual. The prospect of finally successfully summoning a Servant gave him a small sense of relief, heavily outweighed by the stress of actually participating in a war for the Holy Grail. He did his best to bury these emotions and focus on the circle in front of him. He planted his feet, raised his left hand, and began the incantation.

 _Let the circle fill, fill, fill, fill, and fill._

 _Let it fill five times, and overflow._

 _Let silver and steel be the essence._

 _Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation._

 _Let red be the color I pay tribute to._

 _Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall._

 _Let the four cardinal gates close._

 _Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

A chilling tempest swirled around the around, blowing loose pages of his books out of their spines. Burning red light beamed out of the seal on his hand as the mana drained out of his body, a sure sign that he had finally gotten it right. No time to celebrate, the ritual must continue.

 _Let shadow and blood be the foundation._

 _Let fall a cold blade upon this world._

 _Let your form be as wind and your heart as ice._

 _My will shall create your body,_

 _And your sword shall form my fate._

 _Submit to the call of the Holy Grail._

 _If you would accept this will and reason, answer!_

In the center of the circle, the vortex of magical energy began to form into a sphere of blinding light that rhythmically pushed waves force throughout the small room, ricocheting off the walls. Beryl grit his teeth, forcing the incantation on.

 _I hereby swear_

 _I will become all that is good in Heaven,_

 _I will destroy all that is evil in Hell._

 _Clad in the Holy Trinity,_

 _Come forth with the three rings of power,_

 _Guardian of the Holy Balance!_

The mana ripped out of his body like hooks tearing the muscle from his bones. As he pushed the last pulse of magical power into the summoning circle, the sphere of light compressed into a pinpoint as its maelstrom of energy ceased. A brief moment of stillness in the room gave way to a final explosion that blasted Beryl, nearly knocking him to his feet and blinding him. All of the energy he had expended rushed over his body, trying to push through. He managed to close his eyes in time, and dropped to one knee to avoid being blown over entirely. The blast dissipated quickly, and the gusts of wind settled back into the chill draft that fell over the room.

Before him kneeled a man of middling height, a long dark coat draped over his broad shoulders. A hood covered his head, with thin strands of silver hair falling over his features. In his hand was a wide sword, its crossguard ornately decorated with carvings of angels. He lifted his bowed head, revealing his weathered face punctuated by grey-blue eyes, betraying his age.

"Servant class Assassin, High Executioner, Monsieur de Paris, Chevalier Charles-Henri Sanson de Longval. Answering your summon, has arrived."


	2. Chapter One

Assassin's declaration seemed to echo through the room, the only sound that could be heard. The book pages were still and the windy draft that usually whistled through the basement's vents was silent. Beryl righted himself, hoping to find the words to address his newly summoned servant.

"You call yourself an Assassin? Announcing yourself and your identity immediately upon summoning for the world to hear? What if someone was listening to us? There could be some enemy master's familiar spying on us at this moment! I expected better from someone who supposedly killed a king!" Beryl exclaimed, fuming at his servant.

"Forgive me, master, but I had assumed that all skilled mages would survey the area around them before performing a ritual as dangerous as a servant summoning," Assassin responded, a small smirk on his face. Beryl attempted to stammer out a response, but the audacity of his servant's implied insult silenced him.

"In any case, I am no typical Assassin class servant," he said, standing to his feet. "But I sense that this is no typical Holy Grail War, either. I can't quite place it, but something feels amiss." He looked down to his empty hand, gripping the air.

Beryl collected himself, crossing his arms and standing back against a bookshelf.

"Can't stealth, can barely sense the world's mana, are you even a servant?" he grumbled, exasperated. He cupped his hands around his face, cursing his own bad luck.

"Very well, as you seem to be hilariously incompetent, I'll spell it out for you. After the last Grail War, where the Three Great Families destroyed themselves in their own hubris, the Mage's Association locked down on it, banning the practice and hunting down anyone with a command seal. It's been 75 years since the last War, and the Grail has been fighting back. Some think that the Grail's magical energy is overflowing into the world, a result of -"

The young man stopped short as he realized that Assassin had vanished without him noticing. He heard footsteps on the floor above him, and he rushed up the stairs, his face beginning to flush with indignation.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing!?" he asked, barely restraining himself from losing his cool entirely.

Assassin paced around the main living room of the small cabin, running his hands over the walls, book cases, and the few small pieces of furniture that could be found.

"Extensive ritualistic markings, very...dusty, few furnishings," Assassin mumbled to himself as he took in the room.

"Apologies, master," he said, not turning his head as he continued to take in the details of the space around him. "I am attempting to understand you, how you work as a mage, in order to establish a strong base for our partnership to build on. From what you tell me, people have been waiting a long time for this War, people who have been able to elude the prowling eyes of your Mage's Association."

Beryl's anger began to fade almost as quickly as it had come, due in no small part to his exhaustion from the summoning.

"What are you implying?"

Assassin placed a book back on the shelf he had taken it from, a recently published work on the manipulation of light energy as a tool to aid Mage research.

"I do not mean to slight your skill or power, master. I merely believe that your fellow masters, our enemies as it were, are sure to be the cream of the crop. Incredibly powerful mages who have been waiting for these many decades for their chance to summon a servant they have researched and confirmed their compatibility with. My desire is to become compatible with you."

He walked up to Beryl, bowing his head slightly.

"I apologize for the offense, but to do that, I must learn about you. About how you live, how you think, how you-GET DOWN!"

His voice barely had the chance to shock Beryl before Assassin tackled him to the ground, nearly sending him tumbling back down the stairs. The wood-paneled wall next to where they were standing burst out with a loud snap, blowing dust and shards of oak throughout the hallway. Beryl once again forced his eyes shut to protect his vision while Assassin stood over his master, sword drawn and back tensed.

"Master, please retreat downstairs," Assassin said, his voice sharper and shorter than before.

Though his mind was in a flurry, Beryl managed to understand the threat in front of him, and scrambled to crawl back down the long staircase. He did not turn to see Assassin slowly making his way to the stairs as well, keeping his eyes on the form taking shape as the dust settled in front of him. A figure slightly shorter than he was, shielded head to toe in dark green shingled armor, with a plumed helmet obscuring their face. A long sword reflecting the moonlight thrust forward out of the cloud of dust, a golden tassel hanging off its short golden guard.

"Make no mistake, enemy servant. Had I wished it, you would not be standing. I give you one chance to surrender to a quick and honorable defeat. Drop your sword and lower your head."

Hearing the demand from the other side was a strange and uncomfortable feeling for Assassin, and he tightened his grip on his sword. He slowly slid his front foot back, straightening his posture while inching closer to the staircase at the end of the hallway. He measured his opponent's forward stance, smooth, masculine voice, choice of words, and cutting tone, and carefully responded.

"Quite fortunate of me to encounter a servant of such courtesy. Many would not offer such civility. Truly, this exchange between great heroes is the essence of the Holy-"

"Cut the banter and answer me. Will you fight? Or will you surrender?"

The figure in front of him began to shift onto his back leg, moving his other hand to the pommel of their sword. Assassin's mind raced, preparing for the inevitable strike. The chilling night air flowed in from outside. The shadows obscuring his opponent's face made reading his expression or identity impossible. Even his aura of power was masked, making it impossible to determine how strong he really was. Assassin gave a sigh of resignation and lowered his blade.

"Very well, I can see you do not like to mince words. I shall not waste any more of your time. I shall give you my answer!"

Assassin swept his sword up, throwing a cloud of wood chips and dust back into the air. The figure before him lunged forward, blade singing as it rushed for Assassin's throat. Assassin flew backward on the momentum of his sword swing, strafing towards his left to dodge his opponent's thrust. A ray of moonlight flashed into his eyes, reflected off the mysterious sword as it sliced across his shoulder, drawing a small splash of blood. He winced in pain, but maintained his focus, jumping into the shadow of the staircase. The armored servant landed at the edge of the staircase, looking down at the dark passage where Assassin had disappeared. No light escaped from it, only the sound of rapidly descending footsteps.

"Master, the enemy servant has fled. He's probably attempting to lead me into a trap. I don't believe I should follow," the armored servant said, his thoughts carried to his master by mental link.

"Follow him, Saber. It's not a trap," came the quick response.

"How are you so sure?"

"I'm already down there."

Saber's master's voice echoed in his mind, stirring him down into the darkness.

At the bottom of the stairs, only a single dim candle remained lit. Assassin was contacting his own master, quickly shuffling under the desk where Beryl was hiding himself. The boy's shuddering threatened to give away their position by shaking the desk, and it didn't improve when he saw Assassin's bleeding shoulder.

"What happened up there?"

"Don't worry, master, it's just a surface level injury. Painful, but it doesn't impede my movement." Assassin sighed through his teeth, further evaluating the cut. "The biggest problem is that enemy servant. I couldn't read anything on them, not his identity or his class or even his strength. What I did get from that attack is that he's certainly no slouch in combat."

"Isn't that level of Identity Concealment usually reserved for-"

"Assassins, yes. However strange this Holy Grail War may be, I am certain that I am the only Assassin here. I sense that his mental capability is too stable to be a Berserker either. In any case, we aren't prepared to fight him here. Is there another way out of this room? I'm afraid that the stairs are no longer an option."

Beryl poked his head out from behind the desk, straining his eyes to survey the dark room. He pointed to a fallen bookcase on the far wall.

"Th-there's a ventilation shaft behind that bookcase. It leads to the outside and should be wide enough for me. We just need to-"

Beryl's head whipped around to the archway as the clanking of armor descended the stairs. Assassin motioned for his master to get down back into safe cover, but his hands were already moving in an arcane pattern. His arm shot upward, and the light beaming down from upstairs disappeared as a black stone wall rose from the ground to the ceiling, sealing the archway.

"We need to move the bookcase, that should hold him off for a little bit. Hurry up and get over there!"

Assassin nodded at his master's demand, weaving his way through the wreckage his summoning had created. Finally at the bottom of the stairs, Saber found himself facing an obsidian wall where the entrance to the basement should be. He slowly approached the obstruction, which exuded a light magical field, but he could not determine its exact nature. He tapped the tip of his sword against the wall, quickly retracting it fast enough to dodge the stone talon that sprung out of the wall, grabbing at the air where the sword was. The already cramped space made a full swing impossible as more talons grew out of the wall, grabbing at any sense of movement in their short reach.

"Master, I'm in a bit of a bind here. I can get through but I need to be careful with my sword thrusts."

"You don't have the time, Saber. Get in here by any means possible."

With a wry smile, Saber sheathed his sword and stood in front of the wall, barely out of the talons' reach. He bent his legs in a wide, low stance, and pulled his arms back at his sides, holding his shoulders taut. He took a deep breath while he pulled his right fist back. .

"By any means possible, hmm?"

On the other side of the wall, Beryl was knocked backwards, barely keeping his balance as his feet slide backwards a few inches. The black wall was rocked by a powerful shock wave, echoing out to the spell's caster. His mana circuits surged back, attempting to maintain the spell while Assassin threw debris to the other side of the room, clearing the space so only the bookcase remained. In a single determined movement, he drew his sword again and swung it down, bisecting the thin wooden structure and pulling the halves apart to reveal the metal grate blocking their escape. He reached inside and grabbed the metal bars, tearing the rusted grate off its hinges as he called back to his master, who was standing his ground against the repeated blows forcing their way through the stone wall.

"I've got it master! It's time for us to go!"

Saber's master's voice echoed in his head, "Saber, I'm going in."

A blur rocketed out of the vent towards the center of the room. Its speed blew another gust of air through the room while Assassin, caught off guard, could only make out the vaguely human shape of the blur and the long knife in its right hand. He instinctively swung again, hoping against hope that he hit. A small spray of blood in the air confirmed the success of his gamble. Knocked off course, the grey figure plummeted towards Beryl, knife reaching out to slash a deep line into his back as it shot past him, crashing into the ground and rolling into the far wall. Beryl cried out, the cold metal shocking his already stressed body as he too collapsed to his knees. A final punch broke through the black stone, scattering shards of wall and claw across the floor. The force of his blow blurred Beryl's vision as he was knocked to the ground, slamming into the stone floor and blacking out.

"Sa...augh...Saber...finish him off…," his master groaned from behind their cloth face mask. As they lay still, cringing in pain, Saber could see the wide gash running up all the way from their knee to their hip. Before he had a chance to answer, Assassin shot out from the shadows, swinging down at the wounded body. Saber's arm lunged forward, shingled gauntlet sparking against Assassin's blade as he pushed it away. The faded coat whipped back around, Assassin's bellowing shout echoing off the walls as he sliced down again. Springing up from his kneel, he drove his fist past Assassin's swing, planting it deep in his abdomen. The shock of the impact reverberated throughout his body, shaking his gritted teeth open to cough out a spurt of blood. The punch blew Assassin back, barely staying on his feet as he attempted to catch his breath. Pulling back from his follow through, Saber swept down to grab his master, careful not to knock around their head or open their wound further. Before Assassin could ready another strike, Saber had already begun running back up the stairs, his master attempting to struggle in his hands.

"Saber...get back down...there…" they managed to cough, blood dripping down the side of their mouth.

"Master, even in this remote location, our battle may have drawn the attention of the other mages. We don't know if there are anymore traps, how strong the enemy servant is or the capabilities of their master. I can not allow you to remain here any longer with so many unknown factors."

His master went to raise their hand in protest as the faintest hint of red light began to emanate from their command seals, but it fell limp as they slipped into unconsciousness. Trailing blood up the stairs, Saber carried his master out of the hole he had kicked through the wall, disappearing into the moonlit forest.

-

A deep cold shocked Beryl's whole body as he jolted awake. The cut on his back still sent crashing waves of pain as he gasped for air, attempting to maintain some sort of rhythm in his breathing but failing every time. Assassin jumped up from his seat as he pushed the flailing body back down onto the table, holding him down by the wrists.

"Master! Master please, you must calm down! You're alive! You're alive but you must not agitate your wound!" His voice practically yelled over his master's confused cries as Assassin strained to keep Beryl's body still. Unable to fight against the servant's strength, Beryl eventually settled into a regular breathing pattern and looked around him for the first time since he had awoken. He was in his kitchen, one of the few rooms that had managed to escape the chaos of the battle that had torn through his home however long ago. Assassin did not wear the faded cloak that had adorned him since his summoning, but a white dress shirt and simple dark trousers, both flecked with blood. Looking down, Beryl saw that the cloak had been covering him while he was unconscious. On the counter sat all of his bottles of liquor, recently emptied next to his knives and a sewing needle, blood also drying on the metal.

"I honestly wasn't sure you would pull through. That cut was scraping against your vertebral column. A few millimeters deeper and you would have been lucky to get away with full body paralysis." Assassin had let go of his master's hands, walking around the table to pour the last couple of drinks from the bottle of scotch on the counter. He took one glass himself before placing the other in Beryl's hand.

"For the pain. I figured you would want to know that there was a trace amount of magical residue where the blade cut you, but it was so small and faint that I can not determine more than that. Thankfully, you at least keep your home well stocked. I was able to cleanse the wound and sew you back up without too much difficulty. You will heal but what you need most of all now is rest. Get it fast, because we can't stay here much longer. At least one team already knows we're here, God knows how many others will have or have already found out."

Assassin finished his explanation quickly, along with his drink. The young master attempted to parse all of the information at once, compounding the throbbing pain to his head. He pounded down the drink in his hand, cringing at both the pain and the taste of its reliever. After a few moments and deep breaths, he finally managed a cohesive response.

"How...how long have I been out?"

"About 16 hours, the sun just set again. I would wager another day or two should at least put you back on your feet."

"You...healed me? H-how? Aren't you an Assassin?"

A dry smile crawled across Assassin's face as he poured himself the last of the scotch. "An Assassin with fantastic Medicine and Anatomy skills. I trust that your thorough research of my life and aptitude as a servant revealed those to you, sir."

Had Beryl's blood flow not been impeded by his near death experience, he likely would have flushed with embarrassment and attempted to rebutt Assassin's sarcasm. For now, all he could do was finish his scotch alongside him.

"I have a place...closer to the main city...should be prepared already…" he stammered, the pain and his senses dulling.

"Excellent! Then in two days, we depart for Fuyuki!" 


End file.
